Thank you marm, kindly, but frogs ’as eaten me out of ’ouse and ’ome an’ garden too! Hor—hor—hor!”
And Rattling Jack began to indulge in those deep, uncouth sounds which he produced as laughter. Always deeply impressed by his own wit, he liked to appreciate any joke he thought he had perpetrated to its full extent and flavour, and Boy waited patiently till his ‘hor—hor—hor’ decreased in volume and died away in a snuffle.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re quite right about France,” he then said timidly—“because you have been there. But you see, I can’t help it. I shall have to go there if my mother sends me!”
Rattling Jack laid a big hand on Boy’s small shoulder.
“Yes, I suppose you’ll hev to do as yer mother bids. I don’t know yer mother, and don’t want to. If I did, mebbe I’d give her a bit o’ my mind. What I thinks is this—that the ways of natur are best, and in the ways of natur mothers don’t interfere when they’ve done their nussin’. See!” And he stretched out an arm with a roughly eloquent gesture towards the ocean, where the seagulls screamed and flew—“They birds has to take the rough-and-tumble of the storm and the sea. Born and bred in a hole of the cliffs, they’ve got to larn to fly—and larn they do,—and when they flies, they flies their own way—they takes it and they keeps it! And so with all birds and animals ’cept man. Man’s the idiot of the universe, always a worritin’ of himself. He wants his chillun to be just like himself, and a mussiful Lord makes ’em as different as chalk from cheese. For which let’s be joyful! And when they wants to go their own way, man, the idiot, pulls ’em back, and says, ‘you shan’t!’ An’ then it’s more than likely old Nick steps in an’ says, ‘you shall!’ And away they go, straight to the devil! When I was a boy I took my own way—and wal!—here I am!”
“And do you like yourself now?” asked Boy respectfully.
“Like myself? Of course I like myself! I ain’t got no one else to like me, so why shouldn’t I like myself?”
“I like you,” said Boy,—“I always have liked you! I think you so—so clever!”
Rattling Jack was not often shaken from the cynical attitude he chose to assume towards all mankind, but this innocent remark certainly touched him in a weak spot. He was not insensible to flattery,—and the evident fact that Boy did not intend to flatter, but spoke with the simple conviction of his own heart, moved the old seafarer to a sudden stirring of more fervent feeling than was customary with him.
“Ye’ve a good deal o’ sense for a little chap,” he observed condescendingly, “and I don’t mind sayin’ that I’ve rather took to ye. Now, look’y ’ere! If ye don’t want to go to school in France, why don’t you do as they seagulls do, and fly away?”